


An Oral Agreement

by N1ghtWr1ter, RaeDMagdon



Series: Make Me Forget [3]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Blow Jobs, Consensual, Dirty Talk, Eating out, F/F, Face Sitting, Hate Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Degradation, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, Oral Sex, Thirstmonster Jaina Proudmoore, alpha Sylvanas, ear thing, omega Jaina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-06 21:03:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18859078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1ghtWr1ter/pseuds/N1ghtWr1ter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: When Sylvanas is injured in battle, Jaina has to figure out a way to make her take her medicine. The solution she comes up with is...creative.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The usual smutty, filthy goodness from us. You may notice, however, that the dynamic between our esteemed Lord Admiral and the Warchief has begun to shift...just the tiniest little bit. This was a longer one than usual, so we split it into two parts. Let us know what you think in the comments, and follow my coauthor @raedmagdon on Twitter and Tumblr!

Sylvanas screamed, the harsh sound ringing with all the fury of hours spent fighting. The noise tore from her throat and turned a ring of faceless to ash, but there were more. Always more.

Her army had fought nonstop for half a day in order to protect the evacuation of Helmstead, a small fishing village where Forsaken and humans lived in tentative truce. But N'Zoth's legions had no respect for the historic nature of the little hamlet. They had come boiling out of the sea shortly after dawn, and now, past midday, they continued to attack, pitiless and relentless.

To her right, she heard the crackling whoosh of a massive fireball, so powerful it warmed her skin from a hundred paces as it roasted a swarm of naga. Sylvanas did her best not to look, but she couldn't help herself: Jaina Proudmoore never looked more beautiful — or more deadly — than while blasting their enemies out of existence. She noted, however, that a couple of murlocs had escaped destruction and were circling around Jaina, spears raised, while her attention remained on the naga.

 _Talah'Ental_ sang out, and the murlocs fell.

Jaina turned, one hand half-raised in preparation for another spell, but then she caught sight of the fresh corpses. Her eyebrows rose, and she gave Sylvanas a narrow nod. Sylvanas returned it, keeping her face carefully blank. She didn't like the odd feeling that had risen in her chest at the sight of the murlocs menacing Proudmoore. It was too close to protectiveness, and a battle was no place for such contemplations.

Yet as fierce and beautiful a sight as Jaina was laying waste to their enemies, Sylvanas knew they couldn't go on like this. The battle was telling on all of them, both the Horde forces she'd brought to answer Helmstead's distress signal, and the Kul Tiran sailors who had arrived with half a dozen ships to provide the villagers safe passage to a neutral location. If Jaina had been at her best, there was no chance she would have missed those murlocs, and as much as Sylvanas had invested in maintaining her image of the ruthless, fearless Banshee Queen who had no need of rest, the battle was taking its toll on her too.

Her limbs moved a hair slower as she mechanically drew and fired her bow; her armor felt like it weighed a pound or two more; and her reaction times were slowed by a split second. She doubted anyone else could tell, but the difference between surviving to fight another day and encountering a true, final death could be measured in moments.

“Kalira,” Sylvanas barked, snapping off a series of shots that decapitated a row of charging murklings. “Status report.”

“The villagers are nearly all boarded, but the enemy is massing for another advance,” the Dark Ranger said, panting as she swung her blade into the thick, meaty neck of a naga myrmidon. While neither she nor any of the other Forsaken needed to breathe, the habit was hard to kick when one had been exerting oneself as long as they all had. Sylvanas had caught herself doing it more than once in the past hour.

“I will lead a sortie against them and break their ranks,” Sylvanas said. “Tell Nathanos he has command of the main force, then gather Anya, Velonara, and Clea and follow me to the northern bank.”

She didn't pause to see if she would be obeyed; she knew Kalira would see it done. Nathanos might pout and protest that he belonged at her side — he had gotten awfully clingy since her last mating with Proudmoore — but he would ultimately bow to her will. They all would.

“Dark Rangers, to me!” Sylvanas shouted, summoning a skeletal warhorse and swinging onto its back. “We ride for the northern shore!”

She turned to make sure Proudmoore had heard her and received the acknowledgement of a raised hand. Then Jaina returned to freezing their enemies in a ring around her, before shattering the ice blocks. Shards of naga bodies glittered around her, a dark and grisly snow. Not for the first time, Sylvanas found herself glad that Jaina was, for the moment, her ally.

Sylvanas dug her heels into her horse’s sides. The beast reared, kicking up dust as it broke into a gallop. She fired her bow, mowing down murlocs and naga on the path ahead. And there were scores of them. N’Zoth’s forces were as endless as grains of sand upon the shore. Other mounts sprinted alongside hers, and she saw that her Dark Rangers had joined her. She led them along the beach, charging into the throng. She fired over and over, until she no longer felt the pull and release of the bowstring against her numb fingers.

Still, they came. She had meant to stall the enemy long enough for the Kul Tirans to evacuate the village, but they were sorely outnumbered. Whenever one monster fell, two more took its place. With a snarl, she returned _Talah’Ental_ to her back and left her body behind, soaring into the air and shrieking her rage at the advancing army. That did have an impact. Her wail disintegrated the front ranks into black dust, and even the barely sentient murlocs trembled in terror, knowing death was upon them. Not only death, but its Queen.

_“For the Horde!”_

Her Dark Rangers took heart. They redoubled their efforts, and finally, for a precious minute, the advance was stalled. Sylvanas descended like a vengeful Val’kyr, washing over them in a shadow of utter destruction. They were numerous, but they were _weak._ N’Zoth and Azshara would have to do better than this if they wanted to defeat _her—_

“Warchief!”

Sylvanas whirled toward the Dark Ranger who had called out. An enormous arthropod, larger than many of the surrounding buildings, emerged from the sea, shifting the ocean itself as it clambered onto land. For all its incredible size, the scaled creature moved with terrifying speed. Its sharp spines reached over its head like skeletal wings, and its massive pincers swept aside its own minions when they failed to scramble away.

Even Sylvanas, a veteran of countless battles, was shaken by the sight. It was a C’Thraxxi general, probably the leader of the swarm. “Retreat to the ships!” she called, already back astride her horse. Her Dark Rangers were among the finest warriors on Azeroth, but even they didn’t stand a chance against a beast like this, at least not alone.

Her soldiers obeyed, steering their warhorses away from the C’Thrax and back over the numerous corpses they’d left on the path. Sylvanas turned to follow, but the beast was already gaining. It had crawled onto the shore and was barreling toward her, shaking the ground with its steps.

Sylvanas realized she had no choice. Its approach was too fast, and its threat too great to ignore. Unless she stopped this horrible thing, or at least distracted it, all was lost. Without looking back at her retreating forces, she drew her bow and fired.

 _Talah’Ental_ never missed its mark, but her arrows barely scratched the C’Thrax’s outer shell. They bounced harmlessly off its spiny, plated armor, and even firing directly at its blood-red eyes only served to make it angry. It roared again, swinging one of its spiked claws toward her.

She leapt off her horse with less than a second to spare. It crumbled back into the bones it had risen from, crushed in the center of a massive crater. She rolled aside, barely avoiding another blow from the C’Thrax’s second claw.

Sylvanas gritted her teeth around a growl. It was taking all her skill and ingenuity simply to avoid being pulverized, let alone gain an advantage. She hated to admit it, but she doubted she would be able to kill it on her own. She could, however, lead it away from the evacuating villagers, and perhaps buy her people time to get them safely away.

“Very well,” she snarled, nocking an arrow to her bow and drawing it back, allowing dark energy to coalesce around its tip. “Let's dance, you and I.”

She led the aberration on a long, desperate chase through Helmstead’s ruins, alternating between seeking cover from its monstrous blows and finding high spots from which to loose her charged shots. Her arrows could scarcely be more than an annoyance, even imbued with as much power as she dared expend, but she had the thing's attention, and that was what counted.

Sylvanas baited the C'Thrax step by lumbering step, drawing its ire with hits to the face and the few vulnerable areas she could see between the plates of its chitinous hide, and hindering its progress with explosive shots that sent nearby walls collapsing in showers of rubble. She spared a moment to regret the destruction, but she reasoned the villagers would be happier to rebuild their homes if it meant they survived to do so.

Now the hours of fighting truly began to tell. She preserved her strength as much as possible, moving economically and choosing her targets with precision, but no one could fight for half a day and expend as much power as she had without beginning to flag, not even a Forsaken. Weariness crept over her like a dimming mist as she darted among the ruins, and her shots did not pack the same concussive force as they had in the beginning. It was only a matter of time before she missed a step, before her shot failed to bring down a barrier in time, and she also knew no help would come for her: she had been leading it steadily away from the army.

“Hey, ugly!”

Sylvanas barely had time to whirl at the source of the shout before a towering fireball blazed past her. It struck the C'Thrax's exoskeleton in a shower of sparks, closely followed by a wave of ice that encased the monster's legs. It roared, low and throaty, with undertones of gibbering madness that seeped into Sylvanas's ears. She resisted, still stunned at the sight of Jaina Proudmoore atop a roof, a portal crackling behind her, arms raised as she prepared yet another cataclysmic pyroblast.

 _“Move,_ dammit! To the portal!”

There was no time to wonder why _Proudmoore,_ of all people, had come for her — she could only run. She hopped onto a crumbling wall and launched herself at the side of the inn on which Jaina stood, using her momentum to scramble up and catch the windowsill. She pulled herself through, her overworked muscles protesting all the while, and sprinted up the stairs leading to the cracked roof.

As soon as she emerged, it became clear there was no way they'd both make it to the portal in time. She could run for the portal on her own, and probably make it through… but Jaina wouldn't. Sylvanas considered leaving her behind, but dismissed it almost out of hand. Infuriating as the woman was, she was also the most powerful weapon they had against N'Zoth. Losing her could very well turn the tide of an already desperate war against them.

The C'Thrax had cleared the ice from around its legs and was wading through the rubble of the town, murder in its multitude of eyes. Its plates were cracked and blistered where Jaina's magic had blasted it, and it was clearly in pain, but it could still move, could still fight, could still chop them into splinters with its massive claws.

Jaina attempted to encase it in ice again, but she wasn't able to freeze it fast enough, and the C'Thrax charged on. Sweat stood out on her forehead as she continued to cast, desperation and arcane fury crackling in her eyes. For the first time that day, Sylvanas felt a tiny drop of true fear. If _Jaina Proudmoore_ was at the end of her seemingly indomitable strength, perhaps all hope was truly lost.

But she hadn't survived this long by giving up. Gathering what remained of her power, Sylvanas slipped the bonds of her flesh, shadow coalescing around her as she rose into the air. Power gathered in her throat and then erupted into the world in the form of a truly horrendous Wail, one that made the building tremble. The C'Thrax roared, shaking its head and swinging its claws clumsily about in a vain effort to clear the hideous noise from its ears, but Sylvanas was relentless. She would keep screaming until her lungs gave out, or the C'Thrax's brain boiled over — whichever came first.

The aberration made the decision for her. One of its flailing claws swung too close, barely clipping her, but that was enough to send her spiraling through the air to smack broadside into a neighboring wall with a sickening crack. Sylvanas didn't feel pain in the same way she had when she was alive, but she felt enough to know that this was bad. When she attempted to draw herself to her feet, lines of fire seared through the left side of her body. If she had to guess, she'd probably broken half of her bones.

 _If you're going to do something, Proudmoore, do it,_ she thought, panting raggedly with the effort of dragging herself over to a table with the vague hope of pulling herself to her feet. _I've given it all I have._

Jaina did not disappoint. Sylvanas's wail must have given her time to prepare a truly massive casting. Fire blasted from her fingertips, encasing the C'Thrax in a solid sheet of flame. It gibbered and shrieked, thrashing about, but Jaina continued to pour arcane fire against its body. The creature's dying screams were like lances of pure madness driving into Sylvanas's skull as it slumped first to one knee, and then to the ground, shuddering in its death-throes as it curled around itself.

At first, all Sylvanas could do was stare at the corpse of the monstrosity that Jaina had brought down more or less entirely on her own. The idea was so ridiculous that a laugh came bubbling out of her throat, but it turned into a croaking cough as she felt the scrape of broken ribs against her lung. _At least one of them has to be puncturing it,_ she realized without much concern. As long as she could make it to safety, her body would recover.

But the gurgling of murloc war cries and the hissing of naga told her that safety might not be an option. Their enemies had been momentarily stymied by the fall of their general, but the battle was far from over. Sylvanas raised her head wearily to take in the first of a line of naga slithering across the rubble, spears raised. How stupid it seemed to be killed by such pitiful creatures, which had fallen so easily to her bow and blade all morning!

“What are you doing, Windrunner?” said a voice in her ear, even as fingers dug into her sides beneath her arms. Jaina must have seen her and Blinked down from the rooftop. “You have to help me, Sylvanas, you're too heavy— your armor—”

“Shore up my left side,” Sylvanas snapped, suddenly furious at the uselessness of her body, at the unfamiliar whistling of the breath through her tattered lung.

Jaina scrambled to do so without argument, slinging Sylvanas's arm across her shoulders. Staggering like a pair of ridiculous drunks, they managed to get back to their feet just in time for a naga spear to go whistling past their heads.

“Shit!” Jaina hissed. “The portal, we have to—”

“There's no time,” Sylvanas told her, watching as the lines of naga advanced, blocking their way to the stairs. “You have to Blink us there!”

“I don't know if I can!” Jaina wailed, exhaustion plain on her features. With a snarl, Sylvanas groped for her bow, hoping she might buy them even a few seconds more—

But then they had Blinked, teetering on the edge of the roof, the portal only five paces away. Gritting her teeth, Sylvanas dragged her aching, protesting body toward it, Jaina staggering beside her. Arrows and spears clattered against the walls and zipped over their heads. Through the crackling blue edges of the portal Sylvanas could see the deck of a ship, decked out in Kul Tiran colors — the kind of ship she would have ordered sunk on sight in the past, and certainly never set foot on. But now it was her only hope.

There truly was no end to life's little ironies and indignities, she thought before she was half-shoved through the portal, Jaina just behind her. It winked shut as a naga crested the lip of the roof, spear raised to strike. The tip thumped heavily into the deck alongside them just before the portal closed, shivering gently back and forth not an inch from Sylvanas's head.

After that, things were blurry. From her collapsed position, Sylvanas saw a complement of stunned Kul Tiran sailors goggling at her, but couldn’t find the strength to snarl at them. Jaina said something, but Sylvanas couldn’t decipher the words through the ringing in her head. She could only remain limp as two of the sailors picked her up, bearing her to some unknown destination.

***

Jaina kept her eyes closed, attempting to focus on the steady, familiar sway of the ship. The seas were her home as much as anywhere else, and had always been a comfort. Not so today. The battle was too recent, her scrape with death too real. Though a healer had come to her cabin — technically the captain’s cabin, which the captain had given up in deference to Jaina, shifting over to bunk with her first lieutenant (though from the looks those two had exchanged, Jaina doubted that little sleepover would be minded much at all) — she still had plenty of scrapes and bruises, and sleep threatened to overtake her at any moment.

That wouldn’t have been a problem, if there weren’t so many things to do. _I need to give the captain new orders, take stock of the other ships, receive reports on our losses, check on Sylvanas…_

She stymied that last thought. There were more important things to attend to. Her duties—

_Isn’t maintaining the truce with the Horde one of those duties? If Sylvanas were to die a true death, everything would be thrown into chaos._

That worry gave Jaina the strength to open her eyes and sit up. She regretted it immediately. Her head swam, and she had to blink several times to clear the blurry haze from her eyes. Slowly, the cabin came into focus. It was large, as far as captain’s quarters went, and had a fairly spacious bed, although she wasn’t lying on it.

Vaguely, she remembered ordering Sylvanas to be placed there while she took a cot on the floor. The other injured were being treated in the mess, since it had the most room, but she certainly couldn’t house the Banshee Queen there without terrifying the other patients or possibly even inciting a riot. Many still questioned this new truce, and Sylvanas herself did not have the best reputation, to say the least.

_I bet she’s the worst kind of patient, too._

Jaina looked over at the bed where Sylvanas lay, eyes closed and unmoving. _Is she unconscious? Asleep?_ Does _she even sleep? I can’t tell._ All Jaina could ascertain was that Sylvanas’s eyes were closed, and she wasn’t breathing. Her heart skipped a beat until she remembered that, technically, Sylvanas did not need to.

“Ah, Lord Admiral. How ya feelin’?”

One of the ship’s healers, a sturdy Kul Tiran priest with blonde hair and a dimpled smile, entered the cabin, kneeling beside Jaina’s cot with an expression of gentle concern. It was the same woman who had taken care of her when she’d stumbled half-dead across the deck toward the cabin, escorted by several shocked Kul Tiran sailors. The sight of Sylvanas had given them significant pause, but they had leapt to her aid once Jaina had ordered them to do so.

“Well enough, thank you,” Jaina said to the priest. “But if you’re here to fuss over me, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I’m needed elsewhere, and I’m sure there are other patients with far worse injuries.”

“’Course,” the priest said, “but take it slow, aye? I healed that nasty burn on yer side and a cracked rib or two, but you burned through all your mana. No offense, Lord Admiral, but ya look like you went ten rounds with a Titan…”

“And lost, I know,” Jaina said, only a little sourly. “Help me up, would you?”

The priest obliged, offering her an arm. It took Jaina a moment to find her footing when she stood. She felt groggy, as though coming out of a long but unrestful nap. Hopefully, it hadn’t been more than a few minutes since their return.

“Proudmoore? Order this _person_ away and deliver me to my ship at once.”

Jaina sighed. It seemed dealing with the troublesome alpha had to come first on her long list of priorities, if only to prevent Sylvanas from worsening her own injuries. Her red eyes had opened, and rather than looking exhausted, she appeared restless and agitated. It was a far cry from the sight of her in repose, still as death itself.

_At least she’s alive… Hmph. Never thought I’d be saying that._

“Ah.” The priest gave Jaina a decidedly nervous look. “Lady, should I, erm…” She raised her hand, the glow of Light gathering at her fingertips.

Sylvanas bared her fangs, ears flattening against her skull. “You most certainly will not.” She curled in on herself like a wounded beast, facing the ‘threat’ teeth and claws first.

“No, thank you. I’ll deal with this.” Jaina waved the healer away. She seemed relieved to be dismissed, and left the cabin without another word.

Sylvanas snarled, her burning red gaze every bit as intense as usual. “The only thing you need deal with, Proudmoore, is returning me to _Banshee’s Wail_ this very moment.”

“Not happening,” Jaina said, eyeing Sylvanas up and down. Portals between ships were hard enough to arrange as it was, and Sylvanas looked like Hellheim itself. Black ichor oozed from several surface wounds, but the true damage was underneath. Jaina didn’t need a healer’s eye to see that something was… _wrong…_ with Sylvanas’s left side. _Tides, how many bones did she break hitting that wall?_ She was struck by the rather sickening thought that if Sylvanas hadn’t already been dead, she most definitely would have succumbed to her injuries.

“Do not think to test me,” Sylvanas said. “I will not remain here.” She tried to leave the bed, an effort doomed to failure from the start. A grimace twisted her features, and Jaina knew whatever pain Sylvanas remained capable of feeling was most certainly upon her. She slumped back onto the mattress, eyeing Jaina with exhausted resentment.

“You’re welcome, by the way, for saving you. But I can’t let you leave in this state. You won’t make it out of this room, let alone back to your ship.”

“Proudmoore—”

“I’ll make this simple. If you want to live, or whatever you call it, you have to let someone look at you. Unless you want to make the Horde find a replacement Warchief in the middle of a war?”

Sylvanas looked very much as though she wanted to protest. She trembled with anger and exhaustion, but eventually lowered her chin the slightest bit. “The spells your priests use will not help me. They may do more harm than good.”

“So, what else? How do you usually heal after an injury?”

To her surprise, Sylvanas smirked, though Jaina could tell it was forced. “Are you sure you wish to know? The details are… unsavory.”

Jaina rolled her eyes. “I can handle it,” she said, although privately she wasn't sure she could.

“Very well,” Sylvanas said, her condescending drawl absent. Apparently, she had decided she was too tired for more of their usual games. “I drain the life force from living things in order to supplement my own.”

_Living things…_

Jaina’s stomach sank like a stone. The only living things on the ship were the sailors and the refugees, and she certainly couldn’t offer _them_ to Sylvanas. Briefly, she considered volunteering herself, but dismissed that thought swiftly, and with more than a little horror.

_How could I even consider that?_

Trusting Sylvanas enough to fuck her was one thing. Trusting Sylvanas to… drain her, or feed from her, or whatever it was called, was a far different matter. It would leave her completely vulnerable, if Sylvanas didn't just kill her outright, and she couldn’t possibly afford to put herself in such a dangerous position.

“That isn’t happening.”

Sylvanas did not seem surprised, nor did she argue the point. “Then you must return me to my ship, as I asked you to do in the first place.”

Jaina folded her arms. “No.”

“No?” Sylvanas’s long eyebrows twitched.

“No,” Jaina repeated. Sylvanas tried to protest, but she barreled on regardless. “What about a healing potion? We have plenty of those on hand, and they mend bone breaks just fine.”

A frown crossed Sylvanas’s face. “I suppose that might tide me over, in theory, although I imagine its efficacy would be greatly reduced. Some of my Forsaken champions use them in situations where they cannot find living things to drain or consume, but— wait, where are you going?”

Jaina stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “To get you a healing potion, of course.”

“I never agreed to that.”

Jaina blew away some stray hairs that had escaped her braid with an irritated huff. She turned, placing her hands on her hips, and stared Sylvanas down — which wasn’t as satisfying as usual while the alpha lay in bed, looking unusually small and broken.

“There is no agreeing or disagreeing. You won’t allow a priest to heal you, we can’t let you drain some unsuspecting sailor, and you’ll never make it back to the _Banshee’s Wail._ Take the damn potion, Sylvanas, or I’ll pour it down your throat whether you like it or not.”

Sylvanas bared her fangs, making Jaina jolt uncomfortably with the memory of how those teeth had felt against her throat. _Seriously? Even though I'm about ready to kill her right now? Tides, Proudmoore, stop being such an omega._

“I dare you to try.”

Jaina eyed her narrowly. Even in her weakened state, exhausted and with her mana almost depleted, she was fairly certain she could take Sylvanas. But from the way the Banshee Queen was looking at her, Sylvanas intended to put up a fight, and that was something neither one of them could afford.

There weren't many Forsaken on this particular ship, although not by design — in the chaos of the evacuation, everyone had crammed aboard wherever they could — but there were enough to make the Kul Tiran crew, and the other human refugees, distinctly uncomfortable. There was also a small contingent of Deathguards, but they were among the worst injured, and were being tended to in the mess with the others, most likely to the great consternation of the healers there.

But while Jaina was fairly sure that the crew could've handled any one of those things separately, having the Banshee Queen aboard was something else entirely. Hearing that unearthly shriek, even knowing that it was directed elsewhere, always made Jaina tense, fight or flight flooding her veins. And she had mated with the woman twice, for gods’ sake. She hadn't missed the way the sailors had looked at Sylvanas when they stumbled through the portal together, nor the way they hesitated when Jaina had ordered them to help the Warchief to the cabin.

There was nearly enough tension on the ship to make the powder magazine spontaneously combust, and it was easy enough to imagine what would happen if Sylvanas started getting vocal about her discontent. The Faction War could begin all over again, right here on this ship, and it was quite possible that nobody would make it out alive.

_So, diplomacy then. What can I say to get her to take her fucking medicine like a godsdamned adult?_

“I don't suppose I can just tell you to take your fucking medicine like a godsdamned adult.”

Sylvanas just glowered. All right, then.

A solution sprang to Jaina's mind, but she dismissed it out of hand. Tides, what was this _thirst?_ It was completely inappropriate, she didn't even know if it would work, and this was someone else's cabin and someone else's bed! And yet, as she continued thinking about it, the seconds ticking by as she and Sylvanas glared at each other, she couldn't come up with anything else.

_Well, fuck. Here goes nothing._

“If you take the potion, I'll suck your dick.”

Sylvanas's ears shot straight up and her mouth dropped open, but nothing came out. Jaina had the consolation of grim satisfaction. _So there_ is _something that can shut you up after all._ She watched Sylvanas's eyes narrow in consideration, the gears behind the Warchief's smoldering red gaze turning. She half-expected Sylvanas to say no — as well as various other, demeaning things — but as she waited for the Warchief's answer, she realized that she really, _really_ wanted Sylvanas to say yes, and not just because it would make her own life much easier.

“Fine.”

Jaina blinked. “Wait… seriously?”

“Yes.” Sylvanas held up a finger. “On one condition.”

“And what's that?” Jaina narrowed her eyes at Sylvanas again as a smug smile slid over the Banshee Queen's face.

Sylvanas pointed at the floor. “You do it on your knees.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now we get to the smutty bits ;)
> 
> As always, let us know what you think in the comments, and follow my coauthor on Tumblr and Twitter @raedmagdon.

Sylvanas half-expected Jaina to say no, absolutely not, and various other obscenities besides, but to her surprise the omega just swallowed and nodded. 

“I'll speak to the healers about getting you a potion,” she said, whisking through the door before Sylvanas could do anything so delightfully pretentious as dismiss her.

After Jaina left, Sylvanas considered the offer, and the woman who had made it. Jaina's primary motivation had to be keeping her quiet. The less fuss she made on this ship, the less likely it was that the crew would get jumpy and decide to try something stupid. Sylvanas was forced to admit, with the sour tinge of something all too much like fear, that if they did, she would be hard-put to stop them. There were too few of her people here, and she was too injured. Like it or not, the only way to ensure her safety — and, by extension, the safety of the Horde from the chaos that would surely follow her untimely demise — was to cooperate and drink the potion.

_ But that does not prevent me from enjoying myself while I do. _

The mere idea of Jaina Proudmoore, the most powerful mage on Azeroth, on her knees before her, servicing her cock, was enough to make Sylvanas twitch in her trousers. That Jaina had accepted her humiliating demand so quickly was, if anything, even more intriguing.  _ So it isn’t only during her heats that the proud Lord Admiral enjoys being ordered around and made to submit,  _ she thought, smirking, before the pain in her left side turned the expression into a grimace.  _ If, that is, I am able to… perform. _

That wouldn't be a problem, she realized as she rubbed experimentally at the slowly rising bulge between her legs. Her cock was more than ready for this, even if the rest of her was in sorry shape. She recalled that while she’d had Proudmoore's pussy more than a dozen times in the course of both their cycles, she had yet to try the omega's mouth.  _ Given how regularly she spits fire, I should count myself lucky to still have a cock after she finishes with me.  _ But that didn't make Sylvanas any less eager.

Jaina returned in relatively short order, bearing a flask of something green and steaming. Sylvanas had just enough presence of mind to throw the comforter over her lap in case one of the healers should have followed, but Jaina shook her head. “It's just me. Here. I had the healers prepare it specially for someone of your… body type.”

Sylvanas snorted, eyeing the potion with distaste. It looked foul, and smelled worse. “How do I know it isn't poisoned?” She'd meant the question to needle Proudmoore, but she realized as she said it that it wasn't an undue concern.

Jaina rolled her eyes, while Sylvanas enjoyed the red flush that rose to her cheeks. The arousal wafting from the omega made her twitch painfully in her pants. “Would it satisfy you if I said I watched them prepare it myself?”

Something in Jaina's eye made Sylvanas shut her mouth on the remark she'd been about to make regarding  _ satisfaction.  _ She settled for crossing her arms over her chest. “No.”

“Fine.” Jaina uncorked the flask and, like a Kul Tiran sailor might knock back a dram of grog, took a large swallow. Sylvanas tried and failed not to be distracted by the movement of her throat as she did so.

Wiping her mouth, Jaina lowered the potion with a shudder. “Gods, that's foul. Better you than me,” she said, a little too brightly.

Still nonplussed, Sylvanas took the offered flask. “If one of your healers had decided to assassinate me, you'd be dead.”

“You’ll be dead again if you don't drink that down in the next thirty seconds. I’ll see to it myself.” Jaina’s nostrils flared, and her eyes had gone a steely blue-grey that told Sylvanas she had reached the end of her patience. But Sylvanas wasn't about to go down without a fight.

“This first,” she said, gesturing to her lap. Jaina's eyes widened, and her breath caught audibly in her throat. The arousal wafting off her grew stronger.  _ She may want this nearly as much as I do,  _ Sylvanas realized, oddly pleased.

Jaina mastered herself, much to Sylvanas's disappointment. “Drink the potion, or you won't get anything at all.”

“I doubt that,” Sylvanas drawled, glee sparking in her chest at the renewed flush on Jaina's face, a flush that traveled all the way down her neck and across her chest. It was clear that her annoyance was at war with her need, and Sylvanas couldn't say for sure which would win out.

Jaina's eyes narrowed. “During,” she said, moving forward with just a bit of sway to her hips, slight but somehow mesmerizing. “You drink, and I'll suck you off. But if you stop, I stop. Understood?” 

Sylvanas considered, talons ticking on the side of the flask. It was probably the best deal she would get.

“Very well. Proceed.”

Jaina dropped to her knees.

***

_ Am I really doing this? _

Jaina remained in something of a daze, unsure where to begin. Sylvanas was still clothed, although some incredibly brave soul had taken it upon themself to remove her armor, probably while the Warchief was too weak to protest. Jaina wondered which healer had done it, because they definitely deserved a raise.

That left Sylvanas in a pair of leather breeches and an undershirt, both of which were stained with more than a little blood. It wasn’t the blood, however, that attracted Jaina’s attention. It was the considerable bulge in Sylvanas’s lap, straining beneath the leather. An answering lump formed in Jaina’s throat.

_ Yes. I suppose I’m really doing this. _

“Pants off,” she ordered, desperately trying to take some control of the situation, despite the fact that she was already on her knees.

Sylvanas tilted her head. “I… am not sure I am capable of that without assistance,” she admitted in a carefully neutral tone.

Jaina sighed. If Sylvanas would just  _ drink the potion, _ she would soon become capable. Sylvanas was almost as stubborn as she was, which Jaina reluctantly acknowledged was part of the attraction. More than a little annoyed — and also nervous, although she wasn’t entirely comfortable admitting it — she unfastened Sylvanas’s pants and eased them down to mid-thigh as carefully as she could.

Though her efforts were gentle, Sylvanas gritted her teeth. Jaina snatched her hands back and gasped. There was a nasty wound along Sylvanas’s left hip, and beneath the bruise-blackened purple flesh, something seemed… not right. Her leg didn’t look much better.  _ Definitely broken somewhere, _ Jaina thought.

In fact, one of the only parts of Sylvanas that  _ didn’t _ seem damaged was her cock. It stood proudly at attention, and Jaina flushed, unsure whether she should allow herself to stare or not.

_ Don’t be a fool. You can’t very well suck it without looking at it. And you promised… _

Jaina still had no idea what had possessed her to make such an offer in the first place, but it was far too late to back out. She had never been one to shy away from a challenge, and the thick, purple length before her was most definitely a challenge. It looked even larger up close, intimidatingly so, with a slight curve that made the swollen head, a shade darker than the shaft, point toward Sylvanas’s abdomen.

“Potion,” Jaina blurted out, realizing she’d been staring in silence. The creaking of the ship around them seemed unnaturally loud.

Sylvanas peered down at her with the barest hint of a smirk. “Mouth.”

“Tides, you’re  _ infuriating.” _

Nevertheless, Jaina wrapped her fist around the base of Sylvanas's cock, stomach fluttering as she realized how great the circumference was. That certainly explained the limping gait she’d been forced to adopt after their last two encounters. Those had been wild and passionate, but this was… different, somehow. She had the presence of mind to take in exactly what she was doing, and the fact that it didn’t bother her — rather, excited her — was something she would definitely need to sort through.

Later, though. Much later.

She brought her mouth to Sylvanas’s tip, placing an experimental kiss on the slit.

It was cool. Not cold, but not warm either. It twitched beneath her lips, and when she drew back, she noticed a sheen of wetness coating the head. She flicked her tongue out to taste it, and was rewarded with a pleasantly bitter flavor that spread across her tongue.

Sylvanas moaned, then made a gagging noise that distracted Jaina completely. She looked up, more than a little gratified to see that Sylvanas had started to keep her word. She’d taken a swig from the potion, and was currently pulling the most disgusted face Jaina had ever seen on her otherwise smooth countenance.

“I thought Forsaken could barely taste anything?” she couldn’t resist teasing.

“This is so foul even I can taste it. Now stop gloating and keep sucking,” Sylvanas said. “I could… use the distraction.”

While it was clearly an order, the delivery was unusually amicable. Sylvanas’s thigh tensed beneath Jaina’s hand, where she’d rested it without meaning to, and Jaina realized that Sylvanas was actually in pain. She glanced at the bruise, if such a large injury could be called that, on Sylvanas’s hip, and noted that the coloring had already lightened from black to a paler grey.

Jaina felt surprisingly relieved. At least the potion was working.  _ Now if I can just get her to drink the rest of it… _

“Do it in one go,” she suggested, glancing from the potion to Sylvanas. “It’ll be easier.”

Sylvanas’s long, tufted eyebrows arched, and she gave Jaina a smile that showed the points of her teeth. “I will if you will, Lord Admiral.”

A flush burned Jaina’s cheeks. She knew exactly what Sylvanas meant, and as she looked back down at the Warchief’s cock, she privately wondered if she  _ could. _ She’d done this before, of course, but never with something so large. She’d never have believed a slender, lanky creature like Sylvanas was so gifted, if the proof wasn’t there before her very eyes.

_ Come on. What will she say if you don’t?  _ She most definitely didn’t want Sylvanas goading her, or criticizing her technique. Determined to prove herself, Jaina drew the head past her lips, giving it a few firm sucks to get more of Sylvanas’s taste in her mouth before descending on the shaft.

At first, she pushed a little too far in her enthusiasm. Her eyes watered as the tip of Sylvanas’s cock nudged the back of her throat, and she experienced a brief moment of clenching discomfort before something touched the top of her head. Sylvanas’s hand had come to rest on her scalp, claws playing almost casually through her hair and offering a rather pleasant distraction.

Jaina relaxed, remembering to breathe through her nose. Sylvanas didn’t push or force her, but the weight of her palm sent a lance of fire through Jaina’s core. She swallowed, taking the Warchief’s length deeper, until she managed to seal her lips around the base with a moan of triumph.

She couldn't help wanting to know exactly how Sylvanas was taking this. The alpha had gone unnaturally still, although that was natural for her. But when Jaina opened her watering eyes to glance up, she saw that Sylvanas had frozen, mouth hanging slightly open, ears completely flat against her skull. Jaina felt a momentary flash of smug satisfaction — and a much larger one of arousal, to see Sylvanas so entranced — before she noticed the potion, still three-quarters full, sitting forgotten by Sylvanas's hand.

_ Oh no you don't. _

Jaina let half of Sylvanas's cock slide out of her mouth, eliciting a groan. The claws on her head clenched in protest, and a low rumble quivered through Sylvanas's chest. Jaina lashed her tongue along the underside of the shaft, then arched an eyebrow, giving Sylvanas a significant look. The growl she got rose at the end in a way that was almost pleading, and the length in her mouth gave a needy twitch. Jaina’s eyes darted to the potion, then back to Sylvanas. Slowly, she let more of the shaft slip free.

“You wouldn't dare.”

Jaina wasn't entirely sure she would dare. She definitely didn't  _ want  _ to stop. Sylvanas felt good in her mouth and tasted better, and she badly wanted to know the flavor of the alpha's release. But Sylvanas was calling her bluff, challenging her — and Jaina Proudmoore never backed down from a challenge. She teased the head with feather-light strokes before letting it slip out of her mouth completely. Sylvanas's claws dug into the sheets, her bared teeth gritted, and the muscles of her thighs clenched, but she could ultimately do nothing to hold in the high, needy whimper that escaped her.

“Drink,” Jaina told her, only a little hoarsely, trying to sound more assured than she felt when all she wanted to do was take Sylvanas back into her mouth.

Sylvanas very much looked like she wanted to argue. Her eyes narrowed, the tips of her ears twitching minutely, and Jaina could tell she was weighing her options. In the end, desire won out. She picked up the potion and downed it in one large gulp, her face contorting in repulsion.

Jaina laughed. She couldn’t help it. The sight of Sylvanas’s beautiful face, normally so cold and emotionless, pulling such an undignified expression made the ethereal Banshee Queen seem almost… like a  _ normal person, _ for lack of a better word.

But then Sylvanas gasped and threw the empty bottle aside. A heavy  _ clink _ sounded as the glass hit the floor, although to Jaina’s relief, it didn’t shatter. “Disgusting,” Sylvanas drawled, pursing her lips as she swallowed around the remnants of the potion’s foul taste. “Continue, Proudmoore. We had a deal.”

Jaina’s arousal came roaring back. It hadn’t ever left, but she stared hungrily at Sylvanas’s cock, so proud and inviting. Her mouth descended immediately, without her mind's full permission, and she sucked greedily at the head, moaning as Sylvanas’s flavor returned to her tongue.

It was good. Annoyingly good. She had no idea how something dead could taste so pleasant, but it did,  _ she  _ did, and the more Sylvanas leaked onto her tongue, the more Jaina wanted. She took several more inches, trembling at the way it throbbed between her lips.

_ “Fuck,” _ Sylvanas hissed. Her hand returned to the top of Jaina’s head, and her claws flexed against Jaina’s scalp. The gesture didn’t hurt, so Jaina took it as a compliment — possibly the most praise she could expect from someone like Sylvanas.

Her body reacted accordingly. Sylvanas wasn’t the type to dole out compliments or sweet assurances, but that only made Jaina more determined to earn them from her. She focused on taking as much of Sylvanas’s shaft down her throat as she could, since that had garnered a positive reaction last time.

She was rewarded with a choked groan. The sound was soft, but delightfully raw, and more than Jaina could have hoped for. She flexed the muscles of her throat, swallowing around Sylvanas’s broad tip and swiping her tongue around the base of the shaft. It pulsed in response, and heat trickled into the back of her throat. Apparently, her mouth had warmed Sylvanas significantly.

“Good,” Sylvanas muttered, tugging at Jaina’s hair. The word shook, as though she hadn’t wanted to say it, but it had slipped out anyway.

A bolt of pleasure raced between Jaina’s legs. She squeezed her thighs together, but it was too late — she’d already soaked her smallclothes, and her clit swelled, rubbing uncomfortably against the damp fabric.

Sylvanas noticed her squirming, of course. “Don’t tell me you’re  _ enjoying _ this, Proudmoore,” she said, in a drawl that sounded much more like her usual self. “Then again, you did suggest it…”

Jaina’s cheeks burned. She met Sylvanas’s blood-red gaze, figuring the risk of revealing her embarrassment was less humiliating than avoiding eye contact completely, but immediately wished she hadn’t. Sylvanas wasn’t merely watching her. She was scrutinizing, observing every detail — and Jaina had to rise to the halfway mark and breathe for a moment to get herself under control.

It didn’t help.

The flash of heat spread, curling its way through her abdomen. Her clit caught on the soaked material of her underwear, and she realized, with considerable awkwardness, that it would only get worse.  _ Unless I… take care of the problem? _

That was an interesting possibility. Self-pleasure hadn’t been part of the original deal, but neither had it been ruled out.  _ And if I do touch myself, what can she do about it? I doubt she’ll ask me to stop, and that potion won't work fast enough for her to make me. _

Slowly, keeping her eyes on Sylvanas the whole time, she tugged the front of her robes aside and dipped her hand beneath her waistband. Sylvanas's tufted eyebrows rose higher the lower Jaina’s hand went, and the cock in her mouth gave another twitch. When Jaina's fingers met her own swollen wetness, she couldn't hold back a moan. Muffled though it was by Sylvanas's shaft, the noise echoed through the room.

A blush crept down Jaina’s neck, burning across her chest, but her embarrassment was nothing compared to her arousal. She circled her clit shamelessly with her fingers, too desperate to stop. Sylvanas opened her mouth, presumably to say something degrading, but Jaina was ready for it. She took even more of the Banshee Queen's length into her mouth, and Sylvanas's words were lost in a long, low groan.

***

Despite the proof wrapped around her cock, Sylvanas still had a somewhat difficult time believing that Archmage Jaina Proudmoore, Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras, Daughter of the Sea, the most powerful mage on Azeroth, was on her knees before her, sucking her off. But the burning heat sliding up and down her shaft was impossible to deny.

Sylvanas threw her head back at the pressure, biting back a groan. She stole a glance at Proudmoore, hoping she hadn't noticed — her pride had taken enough hits — and found the omega utterly engrossed in her task. Jaina's eyes were squeezed shut, her cheeks hollowed out and bulging with the imprint of Sylvanas's cock, and her hand worked furiously between her legs.

That sight, as well as the wave of omega-scent wafting toward her, nearly made Sylvanas explode then and there. Only the thought of how embarrassing it would be, coupled with the fact that Proudmoore had already seen her in such a vulnerable state, kept her from losing all control. Jaina had to have some idea of what she was doing to her — she couldn't have missed the heavy throbs in her mouth, nor the thin pulses of fluid spilling from the tip of Sylvanas's cock — but that didn't mean she had to know just how close she was to undoing Sylvanas completely.

Seized by a sudden terror of those blue eyes opening and instantly taking her measure, the way they seemed to disquietingly often, Sylvanas recalled what she had learned about Jaina during their prior dalliances.  _ She plays at being the high-and-mighty Lord Admiral, but nothing gets her wetter than being called every filthy name under the sun. _

After swallowing down the moan that threatened to rise in her throat, Sylvanas rasped, “Fuck, that's it. You're taking me so well,  _ kim falo'ban.  _ You really do enjoy this, don't you? Swallowing every inch of me down your throat. Why else would you be pleasuring yourself? Why else would you be dripping and swollen and fucking yourself on your fingers?”

Jaina made a muffled noise, a cross between a growl and a groan. Her eyes snapped open and Sylvanas saw fury in them, but also desire and need. Now, that was interesting. What could Proudmoore possibly need from her, that she was begging so with her eyes?

“That's right,” Sylvanas hissed, leaning closer despite the protestations of her still-healing side. “You love this, and you love that I'm seeing you this way. That I know just what a good little slut you are —  _ fuck.” _

Jaina let out a strangled sob, thighs clenching around her hand as the suction around Sylvanas's cock increased. Sylvanas couldn't hold back her groan this time as she felt the telltale pressure of her knot beginning to inflate. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and let her head fall back against the pillow, but she couldn't take her eyes off the omega below her.

Continuing to watch proved to be a mistake. The sight of Jaina’s pouting lips wrapped around her caused Sylvanas’s knot to swell to its full size, pounding uselessly against the air. It was agony. There was no way Jaina could take it in her mouth, no matter how talented that mouth was. But Jaina saw the tensing of Sylvanas’s muscles, the needy trembling of her limbs, and brought the hand she wasn’t already using in for a firm squeeze.

It wasn’t the tight muscles of Jaina’s cunt, nor the heat of her mouth, but it was more than enough. Sylvanas tried to restrain herself, but she sensed her impending failure before her release even began. There was nothing to do but pull Jaina’s hair, grit her teeth, and let it happen.

Her release struck like a stab to the gut. Sylvanas’s core clenched despite the pain of her injuries, and she choked in an effort not to scream. Pressure raced along her shaft, and she quivered helplessly as it finally burst free, into the welcoming warmth of Jaina’s mouth.

Jaina showed no hesitation. She bobbed further over the shaft as it twitched, taking the tip straight down her throat. Feeling Jaina swallow around her over-sensitive head only made Sylvanas spill faster. Her own mouth fell open, and her head lolled back, even though she desperately wanted to keep watching. She stared at the cabin ceiling, the wood grain blurring before her eyes, before they closed entirely.

She could still feel, though. She felt Jaina drinking her down. She felt the vibration of the omega’s moans, which only grew louder and more urgent. She felt Jaina’s jaw stiffen, and heard her sharp intake of breath as she released just enough of Sylvanas’s shaft to steal some air. And she realized Jaina was coming, too.

The brief pause caused Jaina to miss the next several spurts. With her mouth partially open, the mess ran down her chin, and Sylvanas wrenched her eyes open through sheer willpower. The lower half of Jaina’s flushed face was shiny with wetness, and although her hand still moved frantically beneath her skirts, she closed the seal of her lips again.

“Better swallow it all, Lord Admiral,” Sylvanas muttered, still in a pleasurable haze. “You wouldn’t want to stain those pretty clothes, would you? Someone might notice me on you.”

Jaina did swallow the tail-end of Sylvanas’s release, but her blue eyes blazed as she did, and Sylvanas knew with unwavering certainty that she would pay for that comment in short order. She was too pleased with herself to care, though. Her peak had been far stronger than expected, and best of all, she would be able to revisit the memory of the mighty Jaina Proudmoore sucking her cock whenever she wished.

Breathtaking though it was, the image did not last long. Jaina let Sylvanas slide from her mouth, breasts straining above the heavy neckline of her corset with each quick breath. “That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble,” she said, although the way she licked her lips took some of the threat from her words.

Sylvanas raised her eyebrows. “I could say the same of yours.”

Trouble came sooner than Sylvanas expected. It seemed Jaina was far less injured, and far less tired, than she was, because the omega stood and climbed onto the bed with surprising speed. Sylvanas’s cock, which had softened somewhat, stirred at the sight despite her exhaustion.

Then Jaina was on top of her, prowling across the mattress and over her like a wild, hungry beast in search of prey. Sylvanas swallowed. In life, she had always been the hunter, never the hunted — it was as though her quarry had turned on her, licking its chops in anticipation.

“In fact,” Jaina said, eyes roving over Sylvanas’s body, “I know a way to make better use of your mouth. If, that is, you think you can handle it.” She tilted her head, as if in challenge.

Sylvanas’s eyes narrowed, then widened in realization. Not that there was much ask in Jaina’s words. It was more of a technical question regarding a foregone conclusion, a test of ability rather than will. Still, fair was fair. She shrugged and raised her hands, using the motions to subtly test her body’s capabilities. Movement still hurt, but the potion was taking effect. “I suppose I can oblige you.”

***

A small, shrill voice in the back of Jaina’s mind asked her, over and over, what the hell she thought she was doing. She had duties, she had responsibilities, she had a small Kul Tiran fleet with a handful of Forsaken soldiers and refugees to command, and she was in here preparing to get her clit sucked by the worst person she could possibly be caught copulating with!  _ Yes, that sounds about right,  _ Jaina told that part of her brain.  _ But Responsible Jaina’s not here right now. Try again later. _

The truth was that while her own hand had banked the fires of need burning within her, it hadn’t put them out. She couldn’t even imagine leaving this cabin, let alone trying to navigate the fleet through the dangerous shoals of both sea and faction partiality, without something more. For that, little as she liked to admit it, she needed Sylvanas.

She glared at the alpha beneath her, appraising. Sylvanas’s movements hadn’t seemed particularly pained, but they were stiffer than her usual fluid grace. The potion seemed to be working, then, but it wasn’t all there yet. As much as she wanted Sylvanas’s cock inside her, pounding her to completion and spilling into her deepest places, she doubted the alpha could withstand it. And even if she could, it would set her healing back an unacceptable length of time.

Her mouth, though… if the filth that had streamed from Sylvanas’s mouth during their little encounter was any indication, it had sustained no injury whatsoever. Jaina clenched as she considered the possibility. As though Sylvanas could hear Jaina’s filthy thoughts, she ran her tongue across her teeth, taking care to linger on the points of her fangs. Jaina shuddered, remembering the sensation of those fangs against her throat.

“I believe I understand what you have in mind, Lord Admiral,” Sylvanas murmured, a wicked light in her eyes. “And I can assure you, you won’t be disappointed.”

“Is that so?” Jaina drawled, attempting to exude just as much unconcern as Sylvanas, even though her inner omega was screaming at her to sit on the Warchief’s face at once. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Indeed,” Sylvanas said, her voice growing even lower and silkier, if that were possible. “For one thing, my kind don’t need to breathe.”

That was about all the flirtation she could take. Letting out a cross between a growl and a groan, she leaned down to plant a harsh kiss on Sylvanas’s lips. The foul taste of the elixir was almost gone from Sylvanas’s mouth, and the bitterness somehow seemed to enhance the sweetness of her usual flavor. Jaina could have gotten lost in those lips… if the throbbing of her pussy hadn’t redirected her attention.

“Prove it,” she demanded, pulling her robes back and yanking her leggings down to her boots. Sylvanas opened her mouth, the glint in her eyes suggesting she was about to make another smart comment, but Jaina didn’t let her. She lowered herself until the heat of her soaked pussy made contact with the cool of Sylvanas’s lips.

Sylvanas’s tongue wasted no time getting to work. It swiped between her outer lips with long, flat licks before centering on her clit, circling only once before darting down to her entrance. “Tease,” Jaina gasped, but she was hardly in a position to complain. The teasing brought a brief sort of relief before pushing her to even greater heights.

Jaina didn’t grasp Sylvanas’s ash-blonde hair deliberately, but she didn’t let go when she realized her fingers were buried in it. She didn’t have the presence of mind to offer much direction, but she held on as though her life depended on it, because she feared she’d fall over - or come - if she let go. She wasn’t ready to do so, no matter how desperate she was for release. Sylvanas Windrunner, Banshee Queen and Warchief of the Horde, was buried between her legs, working some kind of wicked magic with her tongue, and Jaina wanted to commit the moment to memory. To her mild embarrassment, but even greater satisfaction, sitting on Sylvanas’s face made her feel powerful in the best kind of way.

She had always had a complex relationship with power. She had sought it, taken it, lost it, and given it up. Handing over a little of that power to Sylvanas during sex was more pleasurable than it had any right to be — especially since she would never cede power to Sylvanas in any other situation. But  _ taking _ power from Sylvanas was just as wonderful in its own way, and the scrape of Sylvanas’s talons over the tops of her thighs, encouraging her to take her pleasure, only made her crave more.

It didn’t help that Sylvanas’s tongue did things she could hardly comprehend. It thrust inside her, reaching far deeper than Jaina had anticipated, probing with surprising strength before withdrawing to lap at her clit. She tensed as Sylvanas sucked her inner lips, and trembled when Sylvanas’s fangs grazed her sensitive flesh, not exactly biting, but certainly  _ threatening _ to bite.

“Fuck,” Jaina gasped. Her hips rocked without restraint, and each push smeared wetness over Sylvanas’s mouth, wetness that Jaina could imagine staining her cheeks and chin if she lifted off. Not that she was going to lift. Nothing in the world could have made her. The entire Alliance leadership could have burst into the cabin, and she would have needed to finish before dealing with them.

That probably had something to do with the fact that Sylvanas’s bragging was more than earned. Jaina was forced to concede, if only to herself, that this was the best head she’d ever received from an alpha, or anyone. The masterful dexterity of Sylvanas’s tongue put all her previous lovers to shame, and Jaina bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from saying so in the heat of the moment.

She shoved that thought as far back into her brain as she could. It didn’t matter if Sylvanas was better or worse at sex than… others. Sylvanas was good enough to make her come, and Tides, she needed to come soon. A mighty wave was building within her, and if she kept trying to hold it back, she feared she might lose control and summon an  _ actual _ wave. The poor ship didn’t deserve that.

Jaina tightened her grip on Sylvanas’s silky hair, preparing to say just that, but the Banshee already knew. She latched onto Jaina’s clit and sucked hard, bringing a hand between her legs as well. Jaina released a guttural groan of approval as two of Sylvanas’s fingers slid inside her, curling against her swollen front wall. Fortunately, Sylvanas had excellent control, because her claws didn’t pierce or scratch. She simply applied pressure, and Jaina’s world spun.

It was too much, and just enough all at once. Sylvanas hooked her fingers again, and the seal of her mouth tightened, her tongue passing over Jaina’s clit in tight, firm circles. Both were obviously meant to make her come, and Jaina was helpless to resist. She cried out, and water leaked from her eyes as she bucked against Sylvanas’s face, completely forgetting that her partner was injured whilst in the grip of her need.

When the first contractions hit, she spilled what had to be an ocean’s worth of wetness into Sylvanas’s mouth. The rush of heat was more than Jaina expected, and her shouts of pleasure became a surprised whimper. But Sylvanas was not deterred. She released Jaina’s clit and continued her work, sliding her tongue seemingly everywhere at once. Jaina might have complained at the loss of focus, but her body was already past the brink. She let go of Sylvanas’s hair and planted both hands on the mattress, desperately trying to keep herself from collapsing.

Things were blurry after that. She could only recall an intense rise and fall, and the pressure and heat of Sylvanas’s mouth, heat it had no doubt leached from her. The next thing she knew, she was panting and shaking with aftershocks, her head hanging unexpectedly close to where Sylvanas lay on one of the pillows. Jaina couldn’t be sure, since Sylvanas’s face was still buried between her thighs, but she thought the Warchief was smirking.

_ Her face is softer up close, _ Jaina realized, stomach squirming at the thought. Sylvanas had such a powerful, dangerous presence that she hadn’t really noticed before. But Sylvanas’s features were almost delicate. Jaina pushed that thought to the back of her mind as well, where she kept the things she couldn’t think about til later.

“Not bad,” Jaina said once she’d regained the ability to speak. “Even braggarts must have at least  _ one _ genuine talent, I suppose.”

Sylvanas shifted up a few inches, freeing most of her mouth. “Was I to your satisfaction, then, Lady Proudmoore?”

“If I say yes, you’ll bring it up every time we see each other from now on.”

Sylvanas’s red eyes narrowed, but not in an unfriendly way. “You have come to know me quite well, then.”

Jaina’s hands belied her pathetic attempts at being casual, and she instinctively reached for one of Sylvanas’s ears, following the tapered triangle to its point with two gentle fingers. Sylvanas’s tufted eyebrows rose in surprise, but she didn’t jerk away. In fact, she made a leisurely show of cleaning Jaina’s sticky inner thighs as Jaina continued stroking her ear from root to tip.

“Continue doing that,” Sylvanas said, her voice bordering on a growl, “and we will have another problem to deal with.”

“That sounds like your problem, not mine,” Jaina told her, even though that wasn't strictly true. The way Sylvanas was cleaning her up — licking around her outer and inner lips, with the occasional brush to her clit or entrance that could  _ almost  _ be unintentional — was beginning to make her throb again. But now that she was no longer deep in the throes of lust, she could hear the sounds of the ship just outside — the creaking of ropes and timbers, the shouts and calls of the sailors. She would have much preferred to stay here for the rest of the day, fucking Sylvanas until exhaustion claimed them both, but she had her duties.  _ They  _ had their duties. Sooner or later, someone would come looking for them, and they needed to not look like sex and death when it happened.

The sour look on Sylvanas's face told Jaina that she had come to the same conclusion. “Well then, Lord Admiral,” she said, with a quirk of her lips, “it seems we are at yet another impasse.”

“It does,” Jaina said.

“However, duty calls. So I suppose we will have to resolve this impasse at another time.”

Jaina's eyebrows rose, both at the words and the tone in which they were spoken. Unless she missed her guess, Sylvanas was essentially asking her whether she wanted to do this again. And while part of her, the Alliance part of her, the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras part of her, scoffed  _ Of course not!,  _ what came out of Jaina's mouth instead was, “I suppose we will.”

For a second, just a very brief second, Jaina could have sworn that the smirk on Sylvanas's lips morphed into something a little more genuine. But it was gone before she could ask about it, or even decide whether or not she was imagining things. “Get dressed,” Jaina told her, clambering awkwardly off Sylvanas and hitting the floor on shaky legs. “I'll get us some wet rags to wash up with, and then we should go and address everyone together, if only to reassure them we haven't murdered each other.”

“Very well,” Sylvanas murmured, sitting up stiffly and beginning the laborious process of pulling her pants back up. Jaina briefly thought to help her — the movements clearly pained Sylvanas — but she dismissed the idea right away. The Banshee Queen would neither appreciate nor accept that sort of assistance.

Realizing she was staring, and not wanting to be caught, Jaina pulled up her own leggings, gritting her teeth at the stickiness of her underwear, and did the best she could with the disarray of her robes and hair.  _ There's been a battle,  _ she reasoned as she gazed bleakly into the small mirror above the dresser.  _ Everybody's a bit disheveled.  _ She hoped that would be enough to forestall questions.

As she headed for the door, a low murmur, echoing with the ghost of a chuckle, reached her ears. “Until next time, then, Lord Admiral.”

Jaina's cheeks flushed, but she raised her chin and said, without looking back, “Until next time, Warchief.” She opened the door and stepped into the sunshine.


End file.
